The Original Mockingjay: Maysilee Donner
by trxqueen
Summary: It's the 50th Hunger Games, and the second Quarter Quell, which spells trouble for the districts of Panem. When each district is forced to give up four children as tribute, how can the odds be in anybodies favour? / Written from Maysilee's POV with an alternative(ish) ending / Rated T for obvious reasons
1. Chapter 1: Prologue

**Authors note:** _I'll be writing this as close to the story as I can, but maybe with a few changes and interpretations. I have no idea how long I'll make this but I like writing a lot of details so we'll soon find out! _

* * *

I crouch down in front of the only working tap in the village, ready to fill my rusty bucket. I need enough for my whole family, but I know that I can't take that much. Everything here is rationed down so that everybody is able to have a bit. And nobody dares take more than their ration in fear of the consequences. I'm only able to fill my bucket a quarter of the way before the peacekeeper moves me along, letting the next person in line take their turn. It's not much, but it's enough for now. There's no use in trying to argue or ask for more. I follow the path back to my home, trying to keep out of the way of any of the peacekeepers and avoid trouble. The last thing we need today is trouble.

"Maysilee," a familiar voice calls as I walk through the front door. "There you are." My mother always acts strange around this time of year, but this year in particular she seems extra weird. This year it's a Quarter Quell. This means that the Games that they use to keep us in line become that much more difficult to overcome. To make the odds even less in our favour. In the last Quarter Quell, which was 25 years ago now, each district were required to choose their tributes by themselves, betraying their own. I wish that I could forget these stipulations. I'm trying to stay as calm as possible for my families sake, but every time they look at me, they give me a look that says that it might be the last time that they get to see me. "Please go upstairs get dressed. They'll be here soon." I can tell that there's an urgency in her voice so I don't argue.

I smile at her softly. "Of course, mother." Leaving the bucket near the front door, I rush up the stairs, into the bedroom that I share with my twin sister. There's a dress laid out for me across my bed, along with a lace bow and a pair of black shoes. The shoes are scratched, second hand, and don't fit my feet properly, but I wear them to make my mother happy. I know there would be hell to pay if we weren't all dressed correctly.

I begin trying to plait my blonde hair, but I cannot see if it's going as well as I hope. There are no mirrors in the house, and I don't usually braid my own hair. The nerves are beginning to set in now. I can feel my fingers begin to shake, ruining the braid, as my chest gets tighter. I try to hold back tears but they're already forming in my eyes. "Let me help you with that." I turn around and through my tears I can make out that it's my sister. Her voice is warm, but she shows no sign of becoming emotional, like I'm being now. She's much stronger than me. I wipe my eyes, trying to keep some kind of brave exterior in front of my family. "It's okay to cry." She reassures me, though she isn't. Mavis is my twin sister, only one minute older than me. Some say that's why I follow in her shadow. She has blonde hair similar to mine, and kind, warm blue eyes. I keep my head down, letting her rebraid my hair, tying it at the bottom with the lace that our mother had laid out for me. I don't want to stay silent, but the only thing I want to say is, _I don't want to do this_. It's a ridiculous statement, though. Because nobody wants to do this, but we aren't given any choice. So instead I keep my lips firmly sealed. "I'll be with you the whole time." She promises me. "We all will."

I follow her downstairs, along with my brother. Piet. He has dark hair, like my mother. I think that's why she's his favourite. She would never say it outloud, but I can tell by the way she looks at him. Mavis and I look like my father. Blonde, thin, and deep blue eyes. Piet is too young to have been reaped, but understands that some day he'll be in my situation. He refuses to look me in my eye. It's like looking into his inevitable future. Mavis and I stand together as my mother inspects us. Brushing down our hair, making sure our shoes are tied, and encouraging us to stand up straight. As if any of that makes any difference on our outcomes. It's so quiet that I can hear my heartbeat thud loudly through my frail chest. I stand too closely to Mavis, almost blending into her. I want to disappear. She's the strongest out of all of us. She barely ever cries; and for some reason that makes me cling to her like a lucky charm. I begin to slow my breathing. In through the nose, out through the mouth. I can't hear my heartbeat anymore. I'm sure it's still there, but it's not as loud anymore. And then, almost as if they sensed that I was relaxing, the siren sounded through the entire district. I jump, grabbing onto Mavis. I try to resist the urge to scream and beg them to not make me go, but I know it's no use. These things are mandatory, and anyone caught not attending will be punished. I've heard stories about the kinds of tortures that people have had to endure and the threat of that alone is enough to keep me from rebelling.

Mavis takes my hand softly, leading us out after my mother onto the streets. When we arrive into the clearing in front of the Justice building, our father is already there, and takes my mother into a cold embrace. I can tell that he's nervous too; more than usual. I follow Mavis towards the front, where she turns to me. "It'll be okay, remember?" I nod, but a shaky breath escapes me and I can feel hot tears running down my cheeks. In the distance, I spot a girl I know from school, and I wonder if she's crying too. They prick my finger with a needle and take my blood, before I follow the other children into a line. I stand beside my sister and another girl from school; Clara Everdeen. The three of us are as thick as thieves, and, I'm sure our teachers will tell you, it's almost impossible to separate us. I look around at the lines of children around me. It's almost like assembly, except there's no warm welcome from a teacher. Instead, a red haired lady stands on the stage, along with a woman with a very tired face. I was told that she'd won the Games once, but nobody ever sees her around town. She stays in her house in the Victors Village and doesn't speak to anybody.

"Welcome, welcome." The readhead woman says with too much excitement in her voice. I look harder at her face and I notice that she's painted her eyebrows, eyelashes and lips in the same deep red as her hair. Her dress is white, with red patterns weaving in and out. If I blur my eyes they begin to look like blood splodges, so I don't do that again. "To the 50th annual Hunger Games."


	2. Chapter 2: The Reaping

I stand up straight, eyes remaining on the redheaded woman on the stage. My mind, however, is elsewhere. First on Mavis, whose name is in there at least seven times this year. Then on my friends. How could I sit and watch my friends every day trying to survive by killing others? How could I do it myself? I want to look back and check on how my parents are doing, but I don't have the bravery to turn my head. In fact, I don't think I have it in me to move at all. My whole body seems paralysed on the spot. The only thing I can move is my eyes, which wander aimlessly between the woman from the Capitol, and the bowls which hold our names. I wonder if Mavis feels the same way I do. I wonder if it ever gets better.

"Next, we're going to hear a special speech, straight from President Snow himself." I blink. I must've missed the whole film about the Games. It's fine, because I've heard and seen it all before anyway. They show a similar propaganda film each year about how The Hunger Games serve as a punishment for the dark days. A time when people like us rose up against The Capitol and tried to start a revolution. In retaliation, they bombed District 13 until it no longer existed, killing thousands of men, women, and children in the process. The Capitol promises that nothing like that will ever happen again. They promise that as long as we work hard, stay in line, and sacrifice our children each year, they'll allow us to keep living. If you could call it that.

Snow appears on the screen in front of us, his demeanor strong but without a care in the world. "Ladies and Gentlemen." He addresses us. "It is written that every twenty five years we will hold a Quarter Quell, to keep fresh for each generation the memories of those who died in the uprising against the Capitol." I feel Maviss hand grab hold of mine and I squeeze it. "Each Quarter Quell is much more than your ordinary games. It it a significant kind of Games. And on this, the second Quarter Quell, each district will provide four tributes, two female and two male, in honour of this, the 50th annual Hunger Games." I feel my body go numb. Mavis is squeezing my hand so tightly that I think it might break, but I can't tell her to loosen up. I literally can't move. Snows face fades out on the screen, but I can't pull my eyes away from it.

"Oh my. That's 48 tributes over all. Isn't that exciting?!" The redhead cheers, her hands ball up into excited fists and she looks like she might start celebrating on stage. My hands are in fists for an entirely different reason. The words keep going through my head over and over. _Four. Four tributes. 48. Over all_. "And may the odds be ever in your favour". With 48 tributes in one arena, I don't think the odds are in anyone's favour.

"As tradition states, ladies first." The redhead chimes, before moving over to the bowl to her left. It was full to the brim with names, and I knew mine was in there several times somewhere. I stare at them, trying to figure out which ones held my fate on it. She takes her time choosing, as if she's spoilt for choice. Finally, she settles on one near the bottom of the pile.

The sound of her heels across the stage cause my nausea to become worse. I feel ridiculously sick. Each step she takes makes my heart stop. Carefully, she opens the paper, before clearing her throat and smiling. "Nara Haverford." I breathe. Though the air is still thick. Things aren't over yet. I watch as a brunette girl no older than me walks onto the stage, her eyes wide and her body shaking. She looks out onto the crowd, probably at her own family, and I feel hurt for her. This might be the last time that she ever gets to see her family, her friends, this district -however poor and dirty it can be, it's still home.

I watch, shakily, as the woman walks back over to the bowl holding the names of every teenage girl in district twelve. This time she doesn't take so long to choose. She has another piece of paper in her hands within a few seconds, and she's already walking back over to the microphone with a happy little skip in her step. The way these people treat our lives makes me want to sob. They act like it's all a huge Game. Of course, it is for them. How can they not see this for what it is? Murder. "Maysilee Donner." All of the blood runs from my body. I feel cold. I stop hearing anything around me. It's all kind of muffled. All I keep hearing is my name being called from the redhead on stage. "Maysilee?" She calls out. Mavis sobs and clings onto me tightly; Clara doing the same. Both are refusing to let me go - both equally holding me to the spot and holding me up. I know I'll have to move before a peacekeeper comes to get me, so I try to push them both away, and eventually they let me go. I put one shaking foot in front of the other, and finally I reach the steps of the stage. "Ah, there we are! Look how beautiful she is, everybody." I walk up the steps, standing in between the redhead and the other girl from my district. Her name escapes me now. "How old are you?" She interviews me. I breathe heavily.

"Fifteen." My voice breaks. "I'm fifteen." She claps excitedly. I look out onto the crowd, and they don't share the same excitement. I look at my mother, her head buried into my fathers shoulder. My sister Mavis is reflecting my shock and horror, and is now holding onto Clara for support; both of them with tears streaming down their faces. While I'm busy staring at the crowd, I completely miss the reaping of the boys. It isn't until one passes me on the stage that I realise. At first I thought that I recognised him, but maybe I was mistaken. He's tall, though. Brunette. Strong. I decide in my head then to stick with him if I can. I can't tell if he's crying, but I look away before I have time to find out. "Adonis Rush". The redhead calls out the last name. A frail blonde boy saunters up to the stage, almost stumbling as he climbs the steps. But nobody laughs. If anything, it becomes even more silent. Surely they can't let this poor boy do these games? He looks so close to death, who even knows if he'll make it to the arena?

"Everyone, your four victors from district twelve!" Nobody claps. I look at my family once more in the distance, first at Mavis, then the boys, and back at my parents. I see Kody standing by my fathers feet, sobbing. I try to tell myself not to remember them like this. I have to remember them as happily as I can. I don't want these memories to be my last memories of them. Before I can finish my thought my arm's being pulled. I almost jump, but I follow the other tributes into the building, and as I take one last look at district twelve, the door closes shut.


	3. Chapter 3: The Train

I'm allowed a few minutes to say goodbye to my family. My parents come in first. They say nothing, but just hold onto me tightly. My father rests his hand on my head, stroking my hair; which my mother flattens before she is made to leave.

"Take this." She says, pulling a golden pin from her pocket. I look at it carefully - it resembles a bird in flight. "It's a mockingjay. It'll protect you." I look up into my mothers teary eyes. _I don't know how much luck a pin can bring me_, I think. But I clasp it tightly in my head all the same, before the peacekeeper escorts them. I'm alone for a second and every breath that I take feels like a countdown. Mavis bursts through the doors, flinging herself onto me. "I'm sorry." She sobs, her nails almost digging into my skin from how tight she's gripping me. "It shouldn't have been you. It shouldn't have been you." She repeats this a few more times under her breath, until a peacekeeper comes in to disturb her us.

"Enough." He bellows, causing us to pull away from each other; her less reluctantly than me. Mavis is removed, and the last thing I see was her bloodshot eyes staring into mine like it might be the last time she'd ever see me. It might as well be.

I'm lead with the other tributes onto a train, where the district wave us off. Some of the others watch as we depart, but I refuse to look outside the windows. I don't want to remember my district or these people like this. But neither do I want to be on this train. Instead, I clasp my eyes shut. In my mind, they can't hurt me. I remember the meadows in spring. The smell of fresh flowers. The sun beating down on me in the summer. I even remember seeing wildlife outside of the fences sometimes. Though we weren't allowed to go outside of the district, I could easily sit and watch them through the barbed wire. Turkeys and squirrels. Sometimes a deer.

"Right, my little tributes!" I recognise the voice. It's the Capitol woman. I reluctantly open my eyes again, met with the bright red of her hair. "I'm sure you all know each other very well, but you don't know me. My name is Octavia and I'm your district representative. I know, I know, look at you and then look at me." She giggles loudly, but we all keep our faces straight. "Help yourselves to food. I'll have somebody show you to your rooms shortly."

Food? Did she say food? I look up from my velvet blue seat and notice a table piled high with foods that I hadn't even seen before. Some bright, and others shining. No doubt about it, though. It was all for us. Myself and the other girl stand up and rush over to the table. I don't know where to begin. I grab what looks like some kind of meat and bite into it. I'm unsure what it is, but it tastes better than anything I've ever eaten. I see that the other girl, I think her name is Nara, has taken a roll of bread and is gnawing on it. I want some of that. With my free had I reach over the table and grab one for myself. "Well, I never." I hear the redhead say, but I don't look up. I can easily sense the disgust in her tone, though.

Within a short amount of time, I'm full, and feeling quite sick. The boys have eaten something too, which I'm thankful for. Especially the frail blonde. I think he'll need as much of that as he can before we get to the arena. The arena. It hits me. Where we're actually going. I mean, I hadn't really forgotten, but the food had served as a great distraction.

I'm shown to my room not long after. It's big enough to fit my whole family inside. There's a bed bigger than I've ever seen in the center of the room, and a giant wardrobe to the left. I don't think that I need all this for a two day trip to the Capitol. I'm told that I have my own bathroom, but I don't think I'm ready to see that yet. I don't know what to do with myself so I just walk over and sit down on the giant bed. I sink into it, almost as if it is hugging me. But I wish that it was one of Mavis's hugs. Nothing beats them. No matter how comfortable this bed is, I know I won't be sleeping tonight. I wonder if that's the intended irony behind this. I reach into my pocket, pulling out the pin that my mother gave me as a token. It might be the last thing I ever receive from her. It might be the last thing I have from District 12.

I wonder how many other tributes have sat on this very bed, looking at the tokens that their families have given them. We haven't had anybody return to twelve in years. The last victor to have returned was almost a decade ago. I don't know his name. I've never even heard him speak. The only times I ever see him is at the reapings, when he sits on stage and reluctantly watches as the Capitol pull two more children from their homes. Until this year. This year there are four of us.

I pick up a remote that's on my bedside table. It doesn't have any buttons, but as I touch it, the lights change to slightly dimmer setting. I slide my finger down, and with it, the lights go off. Sliding it back up, the lights brighten, blinding me. I shield my eyes, trying to slide my finger back down until I'm comfortable with the brightness. I don't like these remotes. I walk over to a mirror. It's bigger than some of the walls in my house. I've never seen myself so clearly. I can see right from the ends of my toes until the hairs on the top of my head almost crystal clearly. I study the way I stand, and then the details on my face that I've never really been able to see before. I can see the redness in my eyes; the puffiness surrounding them from crying.

"Miss Donner." I'm called from outside my room. I don't answer straight away. Mostly because I don't recognise the voice. Instead, I look for somewhere to hide. The wardrobe seems big enough, so I quickly begin to move over to it. "There will be a meeting in the main carriage in 10 minutes. Please don't be late." I hear footsteps, each one getting further away, until I know that the person's gone. A meeting? I'm sure that just like everything else, this will be mandatory.


	4. Chapter 4: The Meeting

I head back to the main carriage, wondering what kind of meeting I have in store for me. Did they only want to speak to me? Had I done something wrong? When I arrive, I see the rest of the tributes already waiting for me. Without saying a word, I sit down in one of the velvet blue chairs, beside the blonde boy. Everybody is silent.

"Very well, now you're all here." The redhead begins, clearing her throat before standing up in front of all of us. "Ryam will be here soon to give you some advice on how to win the games. He has done it once before." She sounds critical. I'm getting the feeling that the two don't get on very well. "But first I just want to say congratulations on being tributes this year! District 12 might not have the best reputation in these games but-"

"This year will be no different." A husky voice interrupts, causing us to turn around. It's Ryam, the only remaining victor in this district. He's old, tired, and smells of alcohol. His beard is getting long and his hair is shaggy. Not exactly a promising picture of our futures. How is he meant to mentor us into the Games? I sink into my chair. If the only victor from District 12 doesn't even believe we can win.. "I can give you all the advice in the world on how to survive in that arena, but the truth is that 48 of you go in there, and only one of you comes out." He takes another sip of his almost empty bottle. My heart plummets into my stomach. I knew this to be a fact already, but hearing it so bluntly cuts like a knife. "Trust me, I know."

"Aren't you meant to be mentoring us?" I turn to see that it was the brunette boy who had spoken up. I expected him to be upset, but he looked more angry than anything. "I don't care about your sob story. Tell us how to win." This isn't the way that I would've handled the situation, but I can see where he's coming from. Ryam is our only chance of learning how to survive the Games. Wasn't he supposed to be giving us advice on how we can survive in there?

Ryam scoffs. "What's your name kid?" He points back at the boy, to which he replies confidently _Haymitch_. "Well, here's an idea Haymitch." He leans back against a table. "You sit there, you shut up, and you listen, and maybe once you're in that arena I can find someone dumb enough to like you that will send you some supplies to get that stick out of your ass. How's that for mentoring?" I hear the other tributes chuckle to themselves, and I can't help but smirk. Octavia, on the other hand, is less than impressed, and lets out a disgusted gasp. Haymitch folds his arms over his chest, his eyes narrowing into a glare, but I don't think he's going to say anything else. "Now, does anybody have any actual questions before I go for a nap?"

My hand shoots up straight away. "You said about people sending us supplies.. how do we get that?" I hope that he doesn't yell at me the same way that he did Haymitch.

Nodding, Ryam rubs his beard. "Good question." Well, that makes me feel a little better. "Before the games you'll have training sessions, evaluations, parades, and most importantly, your interview. You want sponsors to send you things? Make them like you. It's that simple. When you're starving, they'll send you food. When you're freezing, they'll send you blankets. When you're inches away from death, they might be the only thing keeping you alive. If you make them like you, you'll survive." I make a mental note of this. "But, if you're like Haymitch over there, I wouldn't count on it." I turn back to look at Haymitch, whose face has turned to thunder. I think that he's about to yell back at Ryam, but he doens't. Instead, he stands up, pushing past Octavia to leave the carriage. "Well, if that's everything." Ryam gets up and leaves without answering any more questions. But at least I have an objective now. Make people like me..

I stay in the carriage for a while, talking to Nara and Adronis. Neither are prepared for the Games. In fact, Adronis admits to me that he has no chance of winning at all. I try to tell him that he shouldn't ever give up hope, but he promises me that he'll be one of the first to die. I need a second to take that in. How can somebody be so sure of their own death? I find out that Nara is good with knives. I tell her that I hope that she finds some in the arena - only I hope that I'm far away at that point.

I'm making my way back to my room when I notice him; Haymitch. He's leaning against the wall, looking out of the window as we pass through Panem. The train's going way too fast to see anything but a blur, though. But maybe that's all he wants to see. He still looks furious, but a little less than before. I feel bad for the way that Ryam yelled at him. It must've been humiliating. "Hey." I say, approaching him. He turns to look at me, his eyes still narrow and his arms tense. _What do you want?, _he asks. I can tell that his mood is still a bit off, but maybe once he hears that I'm here to check on him, he'll calm down. "Are you okay?"

He laughs coldly, before rolling his eyes at me. "Do I _look_ okay?" He snaps. I step back in surprise. No, he didn't. "Let me see. My chances of being in this games just went up by 100%. I'm stuck on this train going to the Capitol, only to be murdered on television in front of everybody that I know, and now the _only_ guy that can give us any advice on winning is more interested in- what, his naps?" I'm lost for words. I guess I was trying to keep myself as optimistic as possible, but Haymitch seems to have decided his fate already. We stand in silence for a moment, and I don't know what to say. I'm in the same situation too. We all are. When he realises that I'm not going to argue, he turns on his heel to leave, but then turns back as if he's forgotten something. I think that he's going to apologise. "Oh, and thank you _very much_ for having my back in there. At least I know who my allies are." He's mad that I didn't stand up to Ryam for him? Before I have chance to respond, he's walking away, and disappears into his own room. I'm left in the hallway of the train feeling just as humiliated and hurt. I want to be on my own. I make a run for my room, slamming the door shut behind me.


End file.
